


make me lose control

by elisela



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Doctor Derek Hale, Doctor Stiles Stilinski, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Peak Idiots Stiles & Scott, but it's okay we love them, no beta we die like grey's residents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-19 09:01:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29748129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisela/pseuds/elisela
Summary: “Okay, let’s just look it up,” Scott suggests. “We’ll google it, see if it’s safe for the baby—wait! Let’s just call OB, that would be better.”He spins around and slumps against the counter, letting his feet slide across the floor until he can hit the side of his head against Scott’s thigh repeatedly. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Hell will freeze over before I callhimfor help.”
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 427





	make me lose control

**Author's Note:**

> [so i sent this tiktok](https://vm.tiktok.com/ZMejyFWXd/) to lauren and i played myself because i was basically three pages into describing how it was scott and stiles, peak idiots, and then i was like ... well, crap, now i gotta write it
> 
> lauren ily it's still somehow your fault!
> 
> (everything i know about hospitals and medicine comes from a) grey's anatomy and b) being pregnant so ... yeah)

“Hey, Scotty,” Stiles says, skidding to a stop when he sees his best friend sitting on the counter at the empty nurses’ station, tablet in his hands. “Scotty, that lady that came in, the one in exam room three? Her chest x-ray just came back. Pneumonia.” He sets his own tablet on the counter and puts his hands on either side of Scott’s legs and leans in, staring him down.

“Okay?” Scott says, barely looking up from his chart. “Did you start her on—”

“Azithromycin and Ceftriaxone?” Stiles interrupts, picking up one hand to flap Scott’s words away. Figures he’d try to be helpful before Stiles has even gotten to the issue, like after two years of residency he doesn’t know how to treat pneumonia with antibiotics. Christ. “I was going to—”

“Huh, her blood pressure looks a little low,” Scott says, peering at the screen.

“Not the issue,” Stiles says, smacking him on the side. “Scott, focus. I’m trying to tell you—”

“Give her some fluid while you’re in there,” Scott says, tapping once more on the chart. 

Stiles hates him a little. “Thank you, Doctor,” he says sarcastically. “Fucker. She’s pregnant. With child. _Knocked up_.”

Scott— _finally_ —looks up. “Huh? What?”

“Two months,” Stiles says, smacking him again. “Uh, G2, P1—wait, 3? No, you can’t have three kids and only two pregnancies—oh shit, twins, fuck—oh fuck, I don’t know. G2, P1—can you have a random 3? G2, P1—where the hell did I get the 3 from?”

“I have no clue,” Scott says, looking bewildered. “Wait, can you give a pregnant woman—”

“ _I don’t know_ ,” Stiles hisses. “I can’t give her CTX, what if it hurts the baby? What if I hurt the baby, Scott? Lydia would murder me where I stood, she’d harvest my organs to _give_ to the baby—”

“Okay, let’s just look it up,” Scott suggests. “We’ll google it, see if it’s safe for the baby—wait! Let’s just call OB, that would be better.”

He spins around and slumps against the counter, letting his feet slide across the floor until he can hit the side of his head against Scott’s thigh repeatedly. “Absolutely not,” he says. “Hell will freeze over before I call _him_ for help.”

“You don’t even know if _he’s_ —you have his schedule memorized, don’t you,” Scott says, patting his hair. Stiles moans and leans into it, whimpering pathetically. “Okay. Oh! We’ll call my mom.”

“Your mom isn’t an OB,” he says. He throws his arm up over his eyes to block out the lights, harsher than normal at three in the morn—midnight. God. Fuck his life. This shift is dragging on like the walk to Mordor.

“No, but she’s been pregnant,” Scott says. “I’ll text her. You should give her fluids in the meantime, shouldn’t you? I’m pretty sure gestational hypertension makes babies come earlier and like, two months sounds _really_ early to deliver a baby.”

“How the fuck did we graduate med school,” Stiles moans, shoving himself upwards and adjusting his scrub top. “You think, Scott? You think _eight weeks_ sounds a little early to deliver a baby?”

“You’re the one that needs to google pregnancy safe antibiotics because you’re too chicken to call loverboy,” Scott shoots back, and Stiles resists the urge to do him bodily harm as his phone beeps.

The text isn’t good news. “She has a fever!” he exclaims, “101. What the fuck. This was supposed to be an easy shift—it isn’t even a full moon! It was gonna be chill, I was gonna study for the boards and now I’ve almost killed a woman’s unborn child with my inaction and gross ineptitude. Perfect. I’m gonna get kicked off Parrish’s service, lose my residency—I have nothing going for me other than this, Scott!”

“You’re still pretty,” Scott murmurs soothingly, patting his arm with one hand as he types rapidly on his phone with the other. “I texted mom—oh, she said we’re idiots and she’ll send someone to meet you in the room.”

“Thank god,” he mutters. He pulls up his web browser as he walks back towards the room, googling to see if Tylenol is safe during pregnancies and breathing out a sigh of relief when he sees that it is, because he would hate to go back in there with nothing, and puts in the order for the medication. Georgia, a nurse that’s probably been at the hospital since Stiles was born there, is back at the station when he makes it back down to his floor and she gives a pointed cough to get his attention.

“1000mg, Dr. Stilinski?” she asks without looking up from her screen. “Are you sure about that?”

He freezes. “Uh,” he says, “500?”

“Dr. Parrish would start with 650,” she says, and Stiles nods, waving his hand. “Should I—”

“Yes, yes,” he says. “650 is a great number. Nice and, uh, even,” he says. “I’m gonna go—run a line for fluids?” he asks, watching her carefully as a smile plays on her face and she nods. “Great. Going. Page me if you need me.” He doubts she’ll need him except for anything but a signature or permission; he learned long ago to respect the nurses, and that Georgia knows what she’s doing better than he does.

“Alright, Mrs. Reyes,” he says as cheerfully as he can when it’s nearing the early morning hours as he swings around the door frame and into her room, heading straight for the cabinets with the supplies and picking out what he needs. “Looks like you have a touch of pneumonia; I’ll be honest, pregnancy isn’t my strong suit so I’m waiting on a consult before I give you antibiotics, but I’m gonna start a line for fluids and get you some medication to bring that fever down. You’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“Comforting,” she says dryly. “I feel like I’m in good hands.”

“You should,” he says, flipping on the water to wash his hands and pumping the soap, “I could have just pretended I knew what I was doing. Instead, I’m gonna get you some top-quality care.” He scrubs, dries, and slides on gloves before returning to her bedside and setting up the IV. “Scared of needles?”

“Not anymore,” she says, letting her hand rest loosely on the bed beside her. “Do your worst, Doc.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he says, slipping his hand underneath hers and picking up the needle. “So, two months pregnant, huh? Is that the morning sickness stage?”

“You really aren’t familiar with pregnancy,” she says, grinning up at him like she finds it hilarious. “Yeah, we’re in peak morning sickness. It’s not so bad, though, my first one was worse. I’m Erica, by the way.”

He ends up sitting cross-legged on the end of her bed as he waits for the medication; it’s been a remarkably slow night on his floor and he doesn’t have much else to do, so he catches up on charting as she tells him about her family and how long they’d been trying for another baby, and they’re in the middle of a spirited debate about whether or not the nursery should have a Peter Rabbit or Winnie the Pooh theme when his phone beeps with a text: _consult incoming_.

He only has half a second to wonder why Georgia is warning him when Erica’s eyes get wide and he spins around to—”oh, no no no,” he whines in a whisper, looking out the window to the nurse’s station. “An entire hospital of experts and they send—”

“Dr. Hottie?” Erica says, hand coming up and fluffing her hair. “How do I look?”

“Married,” he snaps, and scrambles off the bed when Dr. Hale appears in the doorway. “Heeeey, Der—”

“Hallway,” Derek says, eyebrow raised, and Stiles sighs as he follows him out. Derek turns almost immediately and steps closer to him; instinctively, Stiles moves back until Derek’s got him pressed against the wall. “What did you do.”

“Nothing!” he says, putting his arms up. “Nothing, I swear—Tylenol! I ordered it but haven’t given it to her yet, and I gave her fluids.”

“And?” Derek steps closer to him and Stiles squeaks—he’s unfairly attractive, even this close, when he rightly should be focused on too-large pores and uneven stubble.

“Tried to convince her that Peter Rabbit was a better nursery choice because I hate the color yellow?” Stiles says, and Derek grins suddenly and leans forward, kissing him quickly. “Why are you even here?”

“Melissa called, said you and Tweedledumber needed help,” Derek says, and dodges away when Stiles reaches out to poke him in the side. “The better question is why you didn’t page me when you found out she was pregnant.”

“I was handling it,” Stiles says, and Derek scoffs. 

“You don’t have to be an expert in everything,” he says. “I looked at her chart and ordered Azithromycin and Ceftriaxone for you. Want me to come in and go over them with you?”

“No,” Stiles says, pushing Derek backwards and crossing his arms over his chest. “And you could have just texted that they were safe. You didn’t have to come loom over me and toss me into walls.”

“You complain about that an awful lot for someone who always tries to jump me right afterwards,” Derek says. “What time’s your shift over, 7am? Come home with me. We’ll get breakfast.” He doesn’t wait for an answer, just leans in and kisses him again—more thoroughly this time, one hand on the wall next to Stiles’ head and the other on his jaw, lips coaxing Stiles’ mouth open—before breaking away and walking backwards a few steps, disappearing around the corner.

Stiles leans against the wall and groans, smoothing down his rumbled scrub top. He takes back every nice thing he’s ever said about Melissa; he’s going to kill her. He knows inter-departmental relationships can be difficult and he tries, as much as he can, to keep Derek separate from his work life. They’ve been steadily getting more serious the last couple of months and the last thing he wants is a disagreement to derail the whole thing.

He has _plans_. They involve passing his boards and getting a full-time job, a hilariously tacky proposal, and life-altering amounts of married sex. A pregnant patient will _not_ be the end of it, not if he has anything to say.

“ _Well_ ,” Erica says immediately as he steps into the room. “Here I thought I was going to witness you coming to a violent end and instead it turns out Dr. Hottie is a secret softie! Tell me everything. Spare no details, please, I am extremely sex-positive. Especially because I’m too nauseous to be having any right now.”

He tilts his head back and laughs, glancing at the tablet to check how long the medication will take to arrive before unlocking the wheels on the second bed in the room and wheeling it close to hers, dropping the rail and climbing up. “Eight months ago,” he says, “I gave Dr. Hottie’s sister an emergency c-section in a broken elevator after she was hit head-on in her car a few blocks away. He was waiting, arms crossed and looking murderous and when we finally got out he yelled at me for five minutes about dangerous and reckless risks, threw me against a wall, and kissed me.”

“Whoa,” Erica says, messing with the remote on her bed until Stiles grabs it and forces it into submission, lowering the back for her. “Did you jump him right there?”

He cringes. “No, I, uh—I kinda fainted,” he admits. “Surgery isn’t for me. Derek helped me into a room, calmed me down and helped me clean up and then asked me out to dinner after he took me up to see the baby. We’ve been together since then.”

“Huh,” Erica says, and then she frowns. “It’s just—you looked scared of him, almost?”

“Oh, terrified,” he agrees, nodding. “Derek? Derek’s a great boyfriend, and definitely a secret softie. Dr. Hale? Legitimately terrifying.”

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](https://elisela.tumblr.com/post/644330859241013248/make-me-lose-control-elisela-teen-wolf-tv)


End file.
